


One Night In A Hunting Stand

by Rosswritesalot



Category: Goons (Podcast), Shameless (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Country Boys, First Kiss, Fluff, Frottage, Hunting, M/M, Slow Burn, Smut, dubcon, face fucking, just gay country boys being gay country boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 10:53:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27969383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosswritesalot/pseuds/Rosswritesalot
Summary: Dallas was, is, and always has been stupidly in love with Brandon, and he had accepted that fact years ago. He was in love with his best friend, and that fact was one which had never been uttered into existence out of sheer fear of the chaos which may result from doing such. Dallas would never be able to perfectly describe what about Brandon made him fall so quickly, but has thought about it more times than he could count. Maybe it was the way his lips would pull up into a goofy smile every time Dallas suggested some stupid idea of mischief, maybe it was the way his eyes lit up the first time that Dallas showed up on his doorstep in middle school, hell maybe it was the way he was able to dance so stupidly and yet so carefree as if he didn’t notice that anyone else in the world existed. Dallas could never be sure of what exactly caused it, but even now, on the night of the beginning of their senior trip, Dallas is astounded by just how in love with Brandon he is.
Relationships: Dallas Young/Brandon, Dallas/Brandon, Sniping_Soup/Brandon
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	One Night In A Hunting Stand

Dallas was, is, and always has been stupidly in love with Brandon, and he had accepted that fact years ago. He was in love with his best friend, and that fact was one which had never been uttered into existence out of sheer fear of the chaos which may result from doing such. Dallas would never be able to perfectly describe what about Brandon made him fall so quickly, but has thought about it more times than he could count. Maybe it was the way his lips would pull up into a goofy smile every time Dallas suggested some stupid idea of mischief, maybe it was the way his eyes lit up the first time that Dallas showed up on his doorstep in middle school, hell maybe it was the way he was able to dance so stupidly and yet so carefree as if he didn’t notice that anyone else in the world existed. Dallas could never be sure of what exactly caused it, but even now, on the night of the beginning of their senior trip, Dallas is astounded by just how in love with Brandon he is. 

These things are all that circulate in Dallas’ brain as his truck steadily hums beneath his fingertips, muscle memory carrying him down the familiar roads to Brandon’s house a few miles from his own. A left turn, a right one, count the dumpsters till reaching the third house. Dallas had travelled the path more than a few times on foot, and driving his truck to pick up the boy was still just as exciting as it had been the first time, though maybe the jitters he always gets has something more to do with the proximity than the act of picking him up itself. 

A symphony of dogs barking, a door slamming, and  _ his  _ laughter shining amongst it all. Dallas couldn’t help but smile at the sound of it. His eyes followed the shadow of his lanky friend emerging from behind the house, rifle strapped to his back and travelling bag in his hand. The camouflage vest he bore was hideous, but Dallas couldn’t help finding him beautiful when he pushed stray hair out of his face. No matter how long he was around the boy, no matter how many years he knew him, he knew he would never be able to get over the effortless way he existed. 

Dallas blinked himself out of his thoughts as Brandon banged on the window. “Open the door you fuck, I know you see me! We gotta get going!” Dallas laughed as he quickly pushed the button to unlock the door and watched the boy carelessly throw his things in the back, stripping himself of his ugly winter vest to reveal an even uglier orange camo shirt. 

“God, what are you wearing, man? We are gonna be seen from a mile away!” Dallas can barely keep himself from doubling over in laughter as Brandon throws the vest at him with a smile. 

“It’s the only thermal shirt I had, fuck off.” There is no malice to his voice and the both of them know he couldn’t be happier to be seeing his best friend for the first time since quarantine had begun. 

Everything about Brandon is carefree. He practically throws himself into the passenger seat, waving wildly to his parents who stand at the door to make sure that Dallas doesn’t hit any of the animals on his way out. Brandon doesn’t spend much time focused on them before he is leaning across the center console, throwing his arms around Dallas. They weren’t usually the type to be overly affectionate, but neither of them cared. It had been months, and surely this wasn’t past the invisible line they had drawn for themselves as teenage boys forever ago. 

The boys didn’t allow it to linger, of course, they never did. It was all too soon when they finally did pull away, and Dallas quickly put the truck in reverse to get them out of Brandon’s driveway. Dallas tried not to let his thoughts linger on the way Brandon had buried his face in his neck. 

“Did you eat, or do we need to swing by somewhere?” This question wasn’t uncommon. Brandon had gotten used to Dallas’ first question being about his health rather than anything else. It was just one of the nice qualities about him. Underneath all of the jokes and loud exterior, the man really did happen to give a shit. 

Brandon shook his head, and unbuckled his seatbelt, yet again endearingly carefree. He leaned into the back seat, much to the dismay of Dallas, who had alarm bells sounding in his head at the bit of Brandon’s exposed midriff at exactly eye level. It didn’t last long before Brandon was pulling back, a bag that Dallas hadn’t noticed him holding in tow. “I brought us enough food and snacks to last until tomorrow, so we can just go straight there.” 

Dallas bites his lip to hide a smile as Brandon begins listing off some options; a few of them were his favorites, some were Dallas’, and some were ones they both enjoyed. Dallas tried not to get too hung up on the thought of Brandon with a list of his favorite snacks as he meandered through the isles of Walmart aimlessly. Instead of stating his thanks, he merely nodded, grabbing his phone to click the address he had already searched half a dozen times in the past six weeks out of excitement. They were finally doing it, finally getting out of this small stupid town and going somewhere they could be happy and just appreciate the company of one another. What a way to celebrate senior year. 

~

The road was smooth beneath the near bald tires of Dallas’ truck, and the sun’s rays were nearly blinding, but Dallas couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off of his face. The wind blew harshly through their open windows as Brandon was singing along to the songs on the radio. Dallas wasn’t sure how he was supposed to act completely fine when Brandon’s singing seemed to be directed at him. Dallas wasn’t sure when Brandon had had the time to learn all of the lyrics to “ _ Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy _ ” but it was very obvious he had heard the horrible lyrics enough to have them memorized by heart. His hands clenched at the steering wheel as he glanced over at Brandon just in time for the boy to make eye contact and sing the main chorus of the song. 

_ And the girls say _

_ Save a horse, ride a cowboy _

_ Everybody says _

_ Save a horse, ride a cowboy _

Dallas quickly looks back to the road, eyes wide as he fumbles to try and figure out how to rid himself of the blush quickly spreading beneath his skin. He can’t think past the symphony of Brandon’s giggles and shakes his head as if that may somehow rid him of the flood of images invading his brain. 

_ Brandon’s voice borders on breathless as he praises Dallas over and over again. Pleas flood from his mouth like a cacophony mingled with whines. Their lips meld together and split apart faster than either of the boys can comprehend and a hand reaches between them to grip at Dallas’ collar as the boy bounces faster on his cock. Dallas’ hands grip at Brandon’s hips and by the feeling of their kisses, he really isn’t sure who is in control. Their bodies seemed to meld into one as Brandon adjusted his calves to press flat against either side of Dallas’ thighs. Brandon’s shirt has been unbuttoned and shoved open, revealing his flushed chest littered with marks from Dallas’ own mouth. He had always wondered what it would be like to see Brandon claimed as his after the first time he noticed the boy had a hickey. Slick sounds and hoarse confessions were uttered beneath warnings of proximity as they began to collide faster. Warmth overwhelms Dallas as Brandon breathes soft words into his ear.  _

_ “Dallas… fuck, I’m close… _

_ Dallas… _

Dallas watch the fucking road!” Dallas snaps back to reality just as the tires cross over the yellow lines of the highway. Thankfully, the closest car is over a mile away but the idea that he had gotten so lost in thought shakes him up. His eyes focus and reality sets in that he has been lost in his own head for the upwards of five minutes, thinking about his best friend in scenarios which can never be spoken aloud. 

The man glances to the passenger seat, almost flinching as he is met with wide eyes and an expected grin that claims mischief even when there is none to be had. It’s hard not to smile back at the boy, but he knows he will look far too soft for it to be normal, so he takes a deep breath and rummages in the center console for a bit of chewing gum to take his attention away from the beautiful bright eyed boy. This was sure to be a long trip if Dallas can’t manage to pull his act together on the drive. 

“Sorry about that..” Dallas knows his voice sounds thick, and he is still in a haze as his brain lingers on the image of Brandon with his head tilted back, bouncing slowly on his lap. He doesn’t try to provide an explanation for what he was thinking so hard about for fear that if he looked at the boy for too much longer, he might begin to drool. Instead, he absent-mindedly chews on the piece of warm gum, and turns up the shitty music to hide his inner turmoil about the boy less than a foot away.

~

“What do you mean you forgot to bring your tent! What the hell Dal?” Brandon shouts at Dallas from the tailgate of the pickup as he works to untie the knots of his own rather small portable tent. Dallas rolls his eyes and pulls himself from where he was sprawled across the seat in search of the missing item. 

“I mean I think I left it on my bed at the house back in Carolina!” Dallas throws the empty water bottle he had downed in the truck and slams the door with a sigh of disbelief at his own stupidity. Of course he was too excited to leave his own house for Brandon’s that he left the one form of shelter he needed to have for the next few nights. Despite the fact that he was distressed about the thought of having to drive to the nearest Walmart in hopes of finding a good deal on some tent, most of which would surely be sold out due to it being the beginning of hunting season. 

“Well… fuck, man we don’t have much reception out here and we kind of need to save the battery of our phones. Do you wanna just sleep in my tent? It will be a tight fit, but I promise I won’t bite unless you ask, sweetie.” Dallas has to turn away from the boy at the last remark. The nickname had slipped from his lips so easily and despite the fact it was obviously just a joke, it still made his chest feel tight. He wanted it to be real, hell he wanted nothing more, but as is, he just smiled and tried to put away his emotions just long enough to respond. 

“That sounds great. Just don’t hog all of the blankets.” Dallas tries for a witty remark, not allowing his brain to wander to the idea of holding Brandon in his arms. He wouldn’t have minded if the boy stole the blankets anyway, considering it was Brandon and somehow everything he did was considered angelic to Dallas, but he couldn’t say any of that. 

“Believe me, there won’t be enough room for me to go anywhere with it.” Brandon jokes, and Dallas can feel his mouth go dry at the comment. Fuck, how long are they supposed to be staying again? He can’t remember. All he can think about is how the hell he is supposed to hide all of these emotions which suddenly seem all the more intense after the time apart while constantly being in the same space as him. 

“Well, we are burning daylight, Dal. C’mon, we should get to the stand before all of the good game is dead.” Brandon’s impatient personality had him bouncing excitedly off of the end of the tailgate. So much for setting up the tents before leaving. Dallas couldn’t help but laugh at the way Brandon could hardly focus on one thing for more than a few minutes at a time. 

“We are gonna end up hating ourselves for not setting up the tent later if we leave now, and I am not taking the blame for it.” Dallas began setting his things on the tailgate Brandon had just resided on, grouping them into what should and shouldn’t be put in the tent. It was only a moment before he could feel Brandon standing next to him, obviously anxious to get to hunting. “C’mon, if you help me out, this will take less time.” Dallas turns to look at Brandon and is yet again startled by how close the two are. The boy obviously seemed to know nothing about personal space, but Dallas couldn’t bring himself to ask the boy to step away. He thought himself selfish for that, but the idea of making this boy keep his distance for any amount of time had Dallas yearning to close it. 

“Daaaal, we can do it later. We should go now!” Dallas sighs as he looks into Brandon’s bright eyes that still manage to look soft despite the colder tones. He resembles a puppy in an odd way, shoulders raised, head tilted and eyes begging despite the fact that he was nearly a grown man and definitely could go by himself. Dallas likes the idea that maybe Brandon is too attached to him to go on his own, but he knows the reality is that the boy is just probably scared of getting lost. Brandon’s hand settles on Dallas’ upper arm, and the boy finds himself melting at the touch. God, how was he supposed to keep from giving in to that. “Please?” That was the final straw, and Dallas sighs as he begins grabbing his things to throw into the cab so they wouldn’t get hot in the sun. He can’t seem to fight off the smile from his face as Brandon cheers loudly, dancing around like he’s just won the lottery. Maybe in his eyes, he has. 

~

Their footsteps fell heavy against the crunchy leaves, and Dallas was sure if he had to walk much longer that his arm might fall off from the weight of the small ice chest the boys carried together. The stand seems farther this year than it used to be, but maybe that is just because the whole walk, Dallas had been trying to ward off the thoughts of being out in the forest all alone with the boy he had been in love with for so many years. Or it could be that Dallas was just getting old. 

When they finally arrived, Brandon was already giddy with joy. He had mentioned once that he didn’t actually care about the killing part of the hunt. Sure, it was fun to come back with some sort of prize, he had confessed.  _ “I just enjoy being up high and getting to just breathe for a moment. I like to enjoy the feeling of the air around me go still, and gosh, getting to enjoy that with you? That’s so fucking cool, man.”  _ Dallas smiles to himself at the thought of Brandon being so poetic without trying to be. Some lucky girl would surely be showered with those innermost thoughts one day. A girl who was short and petite, soft, sweet and absolutely nothing like him. He winces at the harsh reality of the thought, and watches as Brandon begins his ascent of the ladder. 

“You like what you see big boy?” Brandon calls down to Dallas, swinging his hips a bit before clambering up into the stand. Dallas can’t fight the blush, and forces laughter to fill the silence, hoping that maybe Brandon would ignore the fact that he didn’t have an answer. 

The boys grunt and complain as Dallas hoists the ice chest up to Brandon, praying to god that the handle doesn’t snap. Brandon pants as he gets it settled, and laughs at Dallas who is bent over trying to catch his breath. “Not as young as we used to be, huh Dally?” the man just rolls his eyes in response as he pulls himself up the ladder to the small stand barely big enough for the two of them plus the ice chest. He really couldn’t have gotten himself in a worse scenario. 

Dallas pulls himself up into the stand, and for a moment allows himself to just breathe. He pretends that he isn’t alone with Brandon miles away from home and every judgmental watching eye. He pretends that he isn’t in love with his best friend that he has been through everything with. He pretends that this is just a normal hunting trip with a buddy. A buddy that doesn’t have startlingly bright eyes and a soft smile that seems to be only reserved for him. A buddy that wasn’t kind and smart and witty all at once with a flirty personality to boot. A buddy that Dallas didn’t want to kiss and call his own. A buddy that… hell, who was he kidding? He couldn’t imagine himself out of this, nor did he even really want to. Instead he just sat down and tried not to focus on the fact that their thighs were pressed flush against each other. 

“Can we eat now? I’m fucking starving.” Dallas is startled out of his thoughts by the whiny complaints of his best friend who follows up by jabbing his elbow into his side. Dallas pushes him back, though keeps it to a gentle shove out of fear that Brandon may fall out of the stand. 

“What do you want?” Dallas asks while reaching into the cooler. This had always been their pattern. One person keeps an eye out, while the other searches to supply them both with nutrients. Dallas would be bashful to admit that it was one of the reasons he knew he would always want to save Brandon in an apocalypse. They simply understood each other in a way other people didn’t. That’s another reason it always hurt so bad to see Brandon have to explain himself to his past girlfriends. They were always so controlling and demeaning, as if Brandon was nothing more than their walking talking dildo. Dallas hated it, and hated even more that other people claimed the girls weren’t that bad. His jealousy simply seemed to override all rational thought processes. 

Dallas blinks back into focus just as Brandon raises a hand to wave in front of his face. “Hello?” Dallas tries to bite back the smile at his soft tone. “Earth to Dal. What do you want?” Brandon, despite all of these years, remained ever so patient. Dallas honestly couldn’t believe that Brandon was real sometimes. He was simply too perfect, but surely he had to know that. It couldn’t just be Dallas who saw him that way. 

“Just get me a water, I’m not that hungry.” Dallas for the first time allows himself to gaze across the field surrounding them, taking in the sights around them. There is an expanse of trees for miles, and a creek just visible over a small hill. His eyes can just barely make out the outlines of nature as the sun embeds itself into the hills of the horizon. A shiver runs through him as the wind gently rocks the branches of the trees surrounding the two. Lastly, his eyes fall on Brandon. Dallas watches as the final glimpses of sunlight casts shadows across his face, illuminating his cheekbones. He can't hide the soft sigh of awe as Brandon’s eyelids flutter closed, revealing the length of his eyelashes. His body yearns, and all he can think about is the fact that his phone is still in the car miles away so he can’t capture this perfect moment of bliss in a photograph. 

Brandon’s lips pull up in a small smile, and his eyes blink open to make eye contact with the boy. “Can I help you?” the words quickly bring forth a blush to Dallas’ face and he looks away while shaking his head. It feels almost as if his tongue has swollen and the image of Brandon existing so peacefully is sure to reside in his brain forever. 

~

The night is quiet other than Brandon’s occasional rustling, and Dallas isn’t sure that he really even has anything to say, but some part of him is desperate to hear the timbre of Brandon’s soft voice; he had always been so enamored by it. Even when they were kids, Dallas found himself fascinated not only with the way Brandon’s accent tilted his words differently that Dallas’ own, but the way Brandon would say certain things. He had this way of speaking that made mundane things seem somehow magical. That was one of the reasons Dallas got in trouble for as much stupid shit as he did, but even to this day, he wouldn’t trade anything for those moments of happiness he got with his best friend. 

“Do you ever think about how small we are?” Dallas rolls his eyes and smiles as Brandon’s words fill the silence before he has the chance to think of some way to do so. Of course it would be something philosophical, Brandon always seemed to be pondering elsewhere. Dallas was sure the boy could be from a different time. 

“Well.. I’ve seen a couple of those videos on Youtube where they talk about the expansion of space and stuff but uh… no, I haven’t really thought about it.” Dallas can hear how stupid he sounds and prays that it’s no more than the usual in Brandon’s mind. 

“Dude, it’s so weird right like, we are two people sitting in a hunting stand that spans across two trees, which are in a forest of over five hundred trees. Even in just this forest, we are so… small, y’know? We will never be more than this…” Brandon trails off for a moment, and Dallas thinks he might have detected something like hope in his voice. Dallas chuckles at the idea of Brandon finding comfort in being small, but decides against bringing it up. “We could basically do anything we want, and in the grand scheme of things… it doesn’t even matter.” Dallas furrows his eyebrows and looks up at Brandon, surprised to see that the boy is already looking at him. “We are insignificant, and nothing matters, Dallas. Do you understand?” Dallas feels almost worried with the phrasing, but nods nonetheless. 

“I hear you, Brandon. The world is far too big for us.” He feels like he should shrink under the intensity of Brandon’s gaze. It always manages to throw him off when Brandon acts like this. It’s always at night after they’ve had a few beers they got from some older friends. It’s like Brandon’s dorky personality falls away to reveal someone more somber, more… real. It both terrifies and intrigues Dallas, because he wants nothing more than to experience every side of Brandon that the boy will allow. For now, he thinks Brandon is just thinking too much, and decides to leave it at that. 

In the distance, a shadow of movement manages to catch Dallas’ eye. It’s within the blink of an eye that the boys have their rifles at the ready, holding the figure within their sights. From what Dallas can see, he assumes it to be a buck getting a drink from the creek by where it stands. He swears to himself as he remembers that his glasses were left on his bed alongside the tent. Of course he would leave some of the most essential things. 

“I’m gonna go for it.” Brandon’s voice is hardly above a whisper, and the intimacy of such low spoken words makes it difficult for Dallas to focus on the shadow. He merely hums in response, and allows his hand to come down from the trigger in an assurance that he wouldn’t go for it. Again, the pattern is familiar. Brandon always gets overzealous and…

**Bang**

He always manages to miss the first shot, scaring away whatever animal had come along. Dallas doesn’t have the heart to laugh as he watches Brandon slump down into his seat in anguish. “I really thought I had it that time, man!” His words sound almost whiny, and Dallas can’t help but smile. Some part of him is happy at the fact that they wouldn’t have to carry a large animal back to their tents which they are sure to return to either way now that Brandon has managed to scare away the majority of the animals in the area. 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s what you said last time too, Brando.” He bursts into giggles at Brandon’s playful glare, eyes darting down to watch his hands in anticipation for the joking punch that would follow any sort of insult. Instead, he finds himself transfixed on the way Brandon’s hands fiddle with an old worn out bracelet of rubber bands which seemed oddly familiar. 

“Where’d you get that?” Dallas finds himself asking the question just as he remembers the answer. 

_ “I made you this friendship bracelet, Brandon. Do you like it?” Dallas shuffles his feet against the gravel in front of their t-ball dugout. He finds himself looking at Brandon expectantly, waiting for a reaction. He feels his stomach sink as the boy looks at him blankly, as if he hadn’t heard at all.  _

_ “Friendship bracelets are for girls, Dallas. I don’t want it.” The boy bites his lip as he tries not to let how badly his words hurt show. He had spent hours working on making the rubber bands of Brandon’s favorite colors overlap. There were five failed attempts at such sitting on his bedside table at home.  _

_ “You’re not very nice, Brandon.” Dallas manages to say before dropping the bracelet to the ground, kicking dirt and rocks at it before walking away. The whole thing was silly anyway. _

“You gave it to me the week we first met. I didn’t take it at first, but I picked it up once I saw how upset you were. Kept it on me ever since I found it again a few months ago.” Dallas tries not to let his emotions take the main priority. Brandon had found a childhood trinket that Dallas had given him, and decided to wear it as a constant. Something about the idea made his stomach do flips. 

“Looks good on you. I should make you a new one.” Dallas responds only half joking, and slaps Brandon on the back. “C’mon, we should head back to the tent. I doubt we will be seeing anything else out here tonight.”

~

Dallas finds himself comforted by the sound of leaves crunching beneath their feet which fall out of sync from one another. The ice chest seems to feel heavier with every step they take but he can’t find it in himself to be upset when he gets to be closer to the boy. His hands ache from the strain, and he is sure that his footsteps aren't the steadiest considering the warm feeling of alcohol running through his veins. There weren’t many people who Dallas would call calming in that state, but Brandon keeps him at ease even when he feels like he is about to lose his head. 

“Man, the tent didn’t seem this far away walkin’ out here.” Dallas finds himself smiling at the ground at the sound of Brandon’s voice, gosh he’s so whipped. Brandon’s headlamp scurries across the ground towards Dallas, though as if out of a last minute decision, it stops and faces forward again. Dallas lets out a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding at the shift; mind running wild as he thinks about why Brandon might have done such a thing. He knows he is thinking far too much into everything, but something about this solitude with only one another has him questioning all of life itself. 

“And we didn’t seem as drunk.” Dallas chuckles at his own terse reply before stumbling over yet another tree limb. Just as the reply falls from his lips, Dallas’ old rickety truck comes into few. Filled with a renewed energy, the boys quickly make the last quarter mile of their trek at double speed. 

The boys practically throw the ice chest to the ground when they get close enough and they groan. “Daaaal, we didn’t set up the tent!” Brandon tilts his head back as he complains and Dallas can’t help but laugh to himself. 

“I told you that we would regret not setting it up, but the sharp shooter over here decided we could do it later.” Brandon is whining in protest before Dallas can even properly finish his sentence, though there is no arguing that the man is correct. He had been warned that this would happen, and Dallas is far too tired to fight. 

“Where are you going?” Brandon asks as Dallas makes his way around the truck to the back doors. The man only laughs as he opens the already unlocked door and begins shoving their miscellaneous items on the floorboard before working to crawl in. He is drunk and honestly nothing looks better to him than the back seat of the old truck. 

“To bed!” Dallas calls over his shoulder as he flops onto the seat, idly working to close the door with his feet. He would most likely lack the coordination even if not intoxicated; as it is, he finds himself struggling to even find the edge of the door. He eventually gives up, legs dangling out the door as the loud ringing of the cab goes off again and again. He idly worries that they will be faced with a dead battery in the morning but his head is swimming and time seems to move slowly as his breaths steady. 

It’s only a few seconds later that Dallas is started back into consciousness by Brandon flopping down against his stomach. The movement jolts him awake for a moment, but he still can’t bring himself to move. “Can I help you?” He asks, his southern accent tilting his words as the alcohol brings forth a slight slur. 

Brandon lifts his head and suddenly Dallas feels as if the air has been knocked out of his lungs. The boy is wearing a lazy smile and his eyes are barely open as he chuckles. “I’m not sleepin’ in the hard bed.” He doesn’t provide more information than that, and instead buries his face in Dallas’ chest. It would have been considered normal for two drunk boys if not for the fact that Dallas’ mind was suddenly racing at the proximity. 

“At least shut the door.” He speaks quietly, almost as if a loud noise may ruin the atmosphere which had fallen around the two of them. His voice sounds thick, somewhat heavy with an emotion he can’t quite seem to place. Brandon groans against his chest and quickly adjusts himself, pressing against Dallas’ chest to sit up on his lap. The man has to close his eyes to keep his mind from wandering too far. The position is compromising, and he is far too buzzed to keep his brain in check. 

Dallas pulls his legs up into the truck as Brandon leans back to grab hold of the handle. His body tenses as the door slams and he has half a mind to complain about how rough the boy was with it, but in the dark silence, he can’t seem to find the energy. 

Brandon settles back down against him, their bodies lining up as Dallas leans back against the pillows and blankets he had pushed against the opposite door. It is far from the comfiest bed he has ever slept on, but he can't say he minds when he got to experience having Brandon as his personal weighted blanket. 

The car eventually stops rocking as the boys get settled and it isn’t long after that Dallas’ eyes grow heavy with drowsiness. Brandon has managed to worm his way up the boy’s body, face buried in his neck. Dallas isn’t sure when it happened, but his arms are wrapped around Brandon’s midsection as if holding him in place. Their legs are tangled, and their breathing is out of sync, and maybe it is just a bit too warm for them to be cuddled like this, but Dallas can’t find a single part of him that wants any of it to change. 

“Night Dally.” Brandon mumbles against the skin beneath his jaw. The boy knows that it wasn’t a necessarily intimate gesture, but it felt like one all in the same. Dallas flounders in his own head as he tries to remember how to talk. 

“Night Brando.”

~

Dallas tries to avoid eye contact as he peels his sweat soaked shirt from his body. The temperatures had risen far above what was expected for the day, resulting in the two waking up around noon hot sticky messes, -though not the kind that Dallas would have hoped for- in a tangle of limbs and blankets. The clothes they had packed were far too warm for this weather, and Dallas knew Brandon would keep grumbling about it if they didn’t find a way to cool down. Dallas was thankful that he had caught sight of the creek not far away the night before. 

The man’s breath hitches as Brandon steps into his peripheral vision missing his clothes, and he finds himself unable to be too upset with the situation at hand when he has the opportunity to ogle his best friend. He knows it’s rather creepy of him to think of it all that way, but what else is he supposed to do? Not look at his extremely attractive best friend who he is all alone on a trip in the middle of the woods where no one is around with? He can’t find it in himself to help it. 

He stops moving as he hears a low groan and a shuddering gasp that sends his mind reeling to places it shouldn’t be. “God it’s fuckin’ cold.” He smiles at Brandon’s complaining and shucks off his shorts quickly. His thumbs hover at his waistband and he debates on whether or not he should take them off when he properly glances up. Dallas can’t help but smile as he takes in the sight before him. 

Brandon is turned slightly away from him, basking in the sunlight which practically makes his dusky skin practically glow beneath the rays. His head is tilted back and his eyes are gently closed as if he is asleep rather than standing in water which just barely reaches his hips. Dallas’ eyes trail his body, desperately taking in the image as if he may never see the boy in such a perfect scenario. His collarbones are shallow and littered with freckles which can barely be seen. His chest reflects the sunlight, and the morning glow makes him look almost like a god. The boy has his arms lazily wrapped around his stomach and Dallas swallows thickly as his eyes trace the faded hue of Brandon’s veins. Eventually his eyes fall to Brandon’s v-line and he takes a shuddering breath as he realizes that Brandon most definitely is  _ not  _ wearing his underwear. 

“You coming in or what?” Dallas’ eyes snap up to Brandon’s face just as he turns to see why he hadn’t heard the boy join him in the water. He takes a deep breath and nods, slowly shimmying off his boxers with a hand quickly coming up to cover himself. He feels far too vulnerable as the wind blows against his newly exposed skin. His footsteps are feather light as he navigates across the rocks and steps in the water and hisses at the temperature. Brandon hadn’t been kidding about it being cold. He glanced back up at Brandon, smirking at how pale his ass was in comparison to the rest of his body. He would have laughed if not for the idea that came to his mind at that exact moment. 

“Cannonball!” He shouts loudly as he throws his full body into the water a few feet away from Brandon, effectively splashing water up the entirety of the boy’s back. Dallas comes out of the water laughing as the boy splutters and gasps, shouting his indignance at the action. 

“You fuckin’ suck dude!” Brandon whines through chattering teeth as he glares daggers at the boy who is red in the face from laughing so hard. Dallas pushes his hair out of his eyes and chuckles at the way Brandon skirts away from him. He shakes his head as a sudden rather intimate image of him holding the shivering boy worms its way into his brain and he sighs as the inability to keep the thoughts away. He is always longing, always yearning for more than this. He can never seem to stay in the moment too long, for his mind pulls him in various directions other than where he is meant to be. 

There isn’t much conversation after that. Dallas seems to lose his voice and Brandon seems to understand. It’s a comfortable silence which they fall into -as most of them are- but despite it being easy, there is still an underlying desire to make the most of these moments. It’s unexplainable, this desire to make every single second count, but as Dallas dips his head beneath the water, he finds himself drowning in the weight of a deadline. 

Once they are out of high school, Brandon will surely continue on to big things- better things in fact. Dallas knows this, and he wants that for the boy, but he can’t help but worry he will be forgotten, just as the old dirt roads they have memorized will eventually be washed away when old pickups stop travelling down them. It’s ridiculous for him to think this way, but he knows that there are better things than the old town they were raised in. There are better people than the ones born in South Carolina… well, maybe not better than Brandon, but better than himself Dallas is sure. He knows that there will be a nice girl who will steal Brandon’s heart and their friendship will fade to a fond memory when the deadline comes and goes. He knows this, and his chest aches from the lack of air he is suddenly getting. 

The sun seems dimmer when Dallas resurfaces, and Brandon is now standing on the shore, watching with weary eyes as he buttons up his jeans. “Worried you got lost for a minute there.” His tone is joking but his eyes reflect underlying concern. He has never been the type to directly ask about feelings, -as emotions are relatively uncharted territory with Dallas- but he always manages to pick apart whenever something is going on inside the man’s head. It was one of those unexplainable talents that Brandon seemed to have an endless supply of; one that simultaneously seems to comfort and disturb the hell out of Dallas. He had never once seen himself as an open book, but Brandon seemed to read him as if his pages were always on display. Maybe they are to him, maybe his inner monologue is written plainly for Brandon to see, but Dallas would never know. 

Dallas forces a smile and shakes his head as he clambers out of the creek which seems to pull at him. He was always able to think easier beneath the water, but the aching in his lungs manages to pull him from the depths before it swallows him whole, much like Brandon himself. Dallas wouldn’t allow himself to go as far as to say that Brandon was a substitute for air, but he found himself unable to breathe at the mere idea of losing him. 

He can’t let himself think too much about it as his body exposes itself to the warm sun and the boy plaguing his thoughts has begun to ramble about how the hunting is sure to be better today when they go. Dallas hopes so, just so he will be able to see the excited smile that seems to show up so rarely on Brandon’s face these days. So maybe it is selfish to want to see that smile one last time before graduation, but Dallas never claimed to be anything less. 

~

“I can’t believe we slept in the truck last night, man. My back is killin’ me!” Brandon’s complaints are met with a scoff as Dallas shakes his head with a smile. Of course the boy would find some way to complain about one of the best nights of Dallas’ life. It’s really too bad he can’t seem to remember much of it. 

“How is your back hurting when you slept on top of me?” Dallas shoots back, pulling a face of mock annoyance. He could never truly be annoyed at the boy, but it was always fun to tease. 

Brandon laughs, and hunches over as if decrepit from old age. “Well sonny, I ain’t as young as I used to be.” His voice is wispy, and quickly brings forth bubbles of laughter before he can even manage to get out the full joke. It’s dumb and he has surely said the joke a hundred times before, but Dallas still doubles over in giggles. The tension which had been building up seems to fizzle beneath their joint laughter. This is what Dallas was probably going to miss most about being around the boy. There was never a dull moment, never an unbearable pause. No matter what, things always kept going, and Dallas is sure he could never find someone else he loved to experience the passing of time with. 

“You’re so fuckin’ aids, dude.” Dallas said once he managed to compose himself. “Let’s get these fucking tents set up, I’m tired of dealing with your ass.” His tone holds no malice, and it is only met with laughter, but Dallas pretends to stomp off anyway. This is mostly because he believes he might implode if he is subjected to any more of Brandon’s adorable behavior. 

The man quickly lowers the tailgate and begins pulling some of their things from the top of the bed to the edge, trying to ignore the slight ache of unforgiving metal against his hips. He is sure it would be much more enjoyable if he were in a different scenario than unloading camping gear, but quickly shakes that thought from his head. It’s only made worse when Brandon settles a hand on his lower back. 

“Do you need any help?” Dallas tenses as Brandon’s rather low voice suddenly appears just beside his ear and warmth spreads across his back as the boy leans over him to reach for some of the more heavy items. Dallas braces himself against the metal bed as Brandon’s body lines up with his own. A gasp hisses through his teeth as Brandon groans softly with the effort. 

_ “Fuck yeah… harder!” Dallas desperately whimpers as Brandon’s fingertips dig into his hips. The truck rocks as Brandon’s thrusts fall into rhythm, dragging out soft whimpers from the boy.  _

_ “That’s my good boy. You take it so well.” Brandon’s voice is low and gravelly, revealing his own pleasure. It only makes Dallas try harder to make the man feel good. His body trembles as Brandon rolls his hips particularly slowly, and his eyes roll back with need- _

“Sorry about that.” Brandon whispers, bringing Dallas out of his thoughts. The boy pushes himself up and turns to face the boy. He is sure that his face is flushed, and he can hardly look his friend in the eyes, but he can’t make himself push the boy away. This is reality. They are standing face to face, and Dallas can feel Brandon’s soft breaths wash over his face. There is a faint trace of a blush painted across his best friend’s cheeks, and he has to keep reminding himself that this is, in fact, his best friend. It seems like they are in some alternate universe, or a fever dream of sorts when Bradon’s hand rests on Dallas’ hip, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

Time slows, and then stops for a moment as the boys share the same air. Dallas can’t seem to take his eyes away from Brandon’s, though Brandon’s eyes flicker down to Dallas’ lips. All they would have to do is lean a little closer, and their lips would brush together… just a little-

“So where do we start on these tents?” Brandon suddenly pulls away with a forced chuckle. Dallas releases a deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and looks away with a rough clearing of his throat. He had been so close, and yet Brandon pulled away. Maybe he misread the situation, hell maybe Brandon changed his mind. No matter what the reason, it felt as if a hot iron twisted into his heart. He forced a small smile anyway and hoped it would be enough. 

“There should be an instruction manual if it’s new.” Dallas says, and walks around to the cab of the pickup where he vaguely remembers shoving their belongings to the floor the night before. A shiver runs down his spine as he remembers the feeling of Brandon pressing his lips to the underside of his jaw. It was so close, and yet so far; close, but not close enough. The desire runs deep, and Dallas feels his heart skip a beat when a warm breath of air puffs against the back of his neck. 

“Did you find it?” Brandon asks softly, and Dallas is sure he could listen to the boy talk for hours on end. Instead, he robotically reaches for the tent, trying to push away thoughts of their compromising position before standing up straight and turning to give it to the boy behind him. They are close once again, Brandon’s arm braced against the top of the cab, holding up most of his body weight as the boy practically looms over a shrunken Dallas. 

“Yeah, here..” Dallas finds it difficult to even utter those two words as Brandon’s soft green eyes seem to study him, bouncing back and forth as if he may find an answer to some unspoken question in the man’s eyes. When he presumably doesn’t find what he is looking for, his eyes fall to Dallas’ hands, which hold the tent between them. 

Brandon pushes himself from the cab, and reaches out to take the tent from Dallas. Their fingertips brush together, and even though Dallas has known this boy for years, the simple touch sends goosebumps up his arms. He thinks that the touch may have lingered, that Brandon may have let it go on for a second too long, but Dallas can’t be sure, and maybe he doesn’t want to find out. 

~

Two hours pass, and Dallas thinks he might end up jumping Brandon before the night is over, though whether it is from desire or anger he can’t be sure. The boys had been trying to put together Brandon’s stupid tent for what felt like forever. Of course the instructions had to be in spanish and of course Brandon had to be the least helpful person on the fucking planet. All he had managed to do was eat all of their crackers, set up and move around the lawn chairs, throw some logs in the fire pit and complain at Dallas for not being able to remember anything from spanish class. 

“If you were helping me, this would get done a lot fucking faster!” Dallas doesn’t even try to hide the annoyance which seeps into his voice. He had been twisting and turning these stupid poles every which way for as long as he could stand and is through trying to get it all done on his own. He would rather sleep in the truck again before enduring this hell for another minute.

“Oh fine then, you big baby. Give it to me.” Brandon scoffs and walks over to Dallas, taking the metal poles from his hands. Dallas watches with a smug grin as Brandon examines the structure for a moment. That grin quickly falls when Brandon begins setting up something that looks eerily similar to the tent printed on the package. Dallas glares daggers at the boy as he steps away from the tent with a proud look on his face, gesturing broadly to the small shelter they were to share that night. “Ta-da.” Brandon proclaims with enthusiasm as he crosses his arms in a rather defiant pose. 

“You knew how to build it that whole fuckin’ time?” Dallas practically growls with menace at this newfound information, though Brandon doesn’t bat an eye before coming back with a sassy retort. 

“Well it wasn’t that difficult.” The words are met with a punch to the stomach, and soon the boys are wrestling on the ground as if they’re kids again. Maybe in this moment, they are nothing more than that. Dallas laughs as he pins the boy on the ground. Maybe this is it. This is the best it will get. 

After all, he won’t have this boy forever. 

~

Brandon’s face is red from laughing too hard, and for what seems like the millionth time in the past few days, Dallas wishes he had a camera. The beer tastes horrible when it is warm, but the ice melted hours ago. Neither of the boys could afford a nice one that actually kept ice cold for more than 24 hours, but when the two of them pitched in together a few years prior, they had never been happier with what they got. Now, Dallas is rethinking trying to get drunk enough to make his brain slow down tonight. His stomach churns at the taste of the warm bubbles, but with another glance in Brandon’s direction, he takes a large swig. He can’t seem to catch up with his mind this afternoon. Maybe it is the alcohol allowing all of the repressed thoughts to rush forward, or maybe Dallas is overthinking all of it. Whatever is happening, Dallas knows he won’t be able to handle it much longer without losing his grip on reality. 

Dallas’ fingertips trace patterns on the cool barrel of his rifle as he listens to Brandon’s steady breathing. Nothing had moved in what seemed like hours, and he is sure that if he tries to stand, he might end up falling from his legs going numb. He feels like he could go to sleep there on the spot, but he knows that there is nothing worse than a dead beat hunting buddy when something is stirring in the darkness.

“Stars sure are pretty tonight.” Brandon speaks into the silence, snapping Dallas out of his slight haze he had fallen into. He glances up at the boy just in time to watch him tilt his head back and take a swig of his shitty beer that’s dripping with water from the melted ice. Dallas doesn’t even bother looking up at the stars before responding. 

“Yeah?” The word wasn’t supposed to come out like a question, but he can hardly even remember what the boy said. It didn’t end up mattering much though, as Brandon began nodding and glanced back down to meet Dallas’ gaze. Despite the fact that Dallas has always been enamored by the depth of green which they hold, his eyes still stun him. He has gotten used to being looked at by people in the halls, what with his ever growing channel and being the star of the baseball team, but Brandon had this way of looking… at him, rather than through him. 

“You ever wondered if you’re gay?” Dallas isn’t sure where the words come from, and anxiety clenches at his stomach so tightly that he is convinced for a moment that he is going to throw up. As it is, he keeps steady eye contact, somehow managing to keep from spewing out the explanations and apologies on the tip of his tongue. He finds himself simultaneously desperate to know the answer, and terrified that it might not be the one he wants to hear. 

Dallas can see the laughter before he hears it, and the sensation makes the hairs stand up on his arms. He feels as if his head is underwater once again, but somehow he manages to find the surface in time to catch the next words that fall from Brandon’s lips. “Well… No, I don’t suppose it has crossed my mind.” The answer is straight to the point, which he loves, but those are the words he had been so afraid to hear. There’s a twinge of pain in his chest as the words sink in, yet a dire need for something different is pulling words from him before he can think about how damning of a road he is travelling down. 

“Come on, Brando… you ain’t never looked at a man and thought ‘yeah I’d kiss him’?” Again, Brandon is laughing, yet the laughter seems to be more out of amusement than teasing. Dallas can’t help but worry that the boy will find something too strange, something too far, yet Brandon never seems to give any of it a second thought. 

Dallas watches as the man takes another slow sip from his drink, and he thickly swallows at the way his adam’s apple bobs. He knows he should drop the topic, but yet again it is late, and he is warm with intoxication, and there hasn’t been any action in hours and maybe, just maybe, he is thinking about what those pretty lips might feel like against his. 

"Well I didn't say that." Brandon replies with a sly smile. Dallas’ eyes go wide, and he finds himself unable to speak. His tongue suddenly feels swollen and his mouth has gone dry. This is all a bit to Brandon, surely it must be. He had said himself that he had never thought of himself as gay, but the idea of Brandon sharing those same thoughts about their lips melding with passion has him thinking in a way that’s far from heterosexual. 

“What are you saying then?” Dallas’ voice comes out timid despite his attempts to stay stoic. His hands are slightly shaky and he can’t seem to stop shaking his leg with anxiety. Dallas jumps when Brandon’s hand comes to rest on top of his thigh, forcing the bouncing to cease immediately. It felt too warm, even more so than the rest of his body. He would have made a noise if he could remember where in his body the vocal cords resided. 

“I’m sayin’ I ain’t gay.” Brandon’s words seem to hold no weight as the boy leans in slowly. Time seems to slow down for Dallas, before all of the sudden it is speeding up. The seconds just before their lips touch are agonizing, but once it starts, everything goes all too fast. Dallas takes deep breaths through his nose as an earth shattering sigh pours from Brandon. Dallas doesn’t remember making the decision to grip at the collar of Brandon’s shirt, yet the material gives way beneath his fingertips. Their tongues work against one another, both unsure of how to go about kissing another boy. Dallas isn’t ashamed to admit he allows Brandon to explore him rather than the other way around; he had always wondered what that felt like. He is idly aware of the boy slowly pulling the gun from his lap and setting it to the side, but their lips never part for more than half a second. Dallas is sure he must sound desperate as little noises can be felt at the back of his throat, but he doesn’t make the effort to stop. In fact, he isn’t sure he remembers how. 

He jumps slightly at the sound of his rifle clattering to the ground, and starts to pull away before Brandon’s hand is at the back of his neck. It’s a subtle pull of desire for closeness, a silent command for the boy not to pull away. Of course, Dallas obliges and allows the desperation to claw at him once more. He must be dreaming, after all he was exhausted a few moments ago, though if it isn’t real, he knows he doesn’t want to wake up. 

After a few moments, the boys pull away for a breath, Dallas’ head falling to rest on Brandon’s shoulder. His eyes flutter open just in time to see Brandon’s hand from the back of his neck fall down to pinch himself on the inside of his wrist. Dallas smiles at the action, and chuckles to himself. 

“What?” Brandon asks, voice wavering just slightly. 

Dallas pulls away to look up at the boy before gently pulling Brandon’s arm up into view and gesturing to the blooming red spot with a small smile. “I was just thinking the same thing.” His voice is low, and surprises even himself with the intensity. He has never felt like this before, and he longs to keep this euphoria from slipping into the inky darkness. 

Within a moment’s notice, Brandon has begun quickly slipping down the ladder. Dallas watches as he takes them two at a time, and jumps from the bottom. He wants to ask where the boy is going, or even a simple ‘are you okay?’ but before he can decide which question he wants to ask, his friend is gone. Swallowed by the darkness. 

Dallas sits in shocked silence for a moment before the first tear falls. He doesn’t know when he started crying, but suddenly he can’t seem to stop. Brandon had run away, and surely he wouldn’t have if he actually wanted any of that to happen. Brandon didn’t want him, maybe he never did. Dallas can’t handle that thought, and his stomach churns at the idea of Brandon putting him through all of that- forcing himself to kiss Dallas in hopes that maybe some feelings would just emerge that had never been there. 

Dallas clutches at his stomach as he curls in on himself. God, what has he done? Surely Brandon won’t leave him out here. Surely they can go home and pretend this never happened. Why did Brandon initiate something he never wanted?

Dallas isn’t sure whether minutes pass or hours when he gasps and tries to hide the whimpers he didn’t know he was uttering as the stand begins to shake with Brandon’s weight on the ladder. How is Dallas supposed to apologize for what he has done and what is Brandon going to say to him? He quickly wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and picks up his rifle, pretending to focus on cleaning the barrel which somehow got a muddy footprint stamped on it in the midst of their makeout session. 

“You alright?” The sound of Brandon’s sloppy accent has Dallas looking up without a second thought. He knows he must look like shit, considering his face goes blotchy when he cries and he didn’t bother bringing a hairbrush on this god forsaken trip. He doesn’t even know how to respond. Brandon’s eyes are bouncing back and forth as they never seem to focus on one of his own. He is chewing on his lip, and with a glance, he can tell that the boy has just calmed down from one of his own panic attacks. He never bothered to tell Brandon that they weren’t as easily hidden as he thought; he simply didn’t like the idea of not knowing when Brandon was going through something, though now it felt like a stab to the heart. 

“Yeah.” Dallas replies as he looks back down to the gun on his lap. He had been rubbing at the same spot for a good bit longer than he needed to, but despite the fact Brandon surely noticed, he didn’t bother commenting on it. 

Dallas flinches as Brandon’s hand cups his chin and gently forces him to meet his gaze. The movement is nothing more than a pull, but it still reminds Dallas of the way Brandon controlled him with the kiss. His eyes flutter shut for a moment as he takes a deep breath to steady himself. When did he suddenly become so easy to fluster?

He opens his eyes and looks up at Brandon, surprised to see the soft smile. He had never realized how comforting that smile was, but now, looking up at him, he knows somehow that everything is okay. Dallas releases a sigh of relief and allows the weight of his head to rest in the boy’s hand. It feels like the air is knocked out of him when he feels Brandon’s thumb drag slowly across the skin of his cheek. Once… twice… Dallas suddenly forgets how to breathe as he feels the movements pause for a moment. He thinks that the hand might pull away then, until Brandon releases a shuddering sigh, and his thumb slips down to rest against Dallas’ bottom lip. 

The air around them falls still and Dallas’ mind is whirling with possibility. Brandon was never a man of many words, never the type to choose expressing himself through speaking rather than showing what he’s thinking. Dallas never realized that it might go quite this far. His lips part with a deep breath as Brandon tilts his head curiously. Dallas finds himself shrinking beneath the intensity of Brandon’s gaze. He had never been the type to shy away from confrontation, but something about the way Brandon is regarding Dallas has him on the edge of his seat. 

Dallas finds himself sinking into this moment, shoulders relaxing as Brandon presses his thumb down against his tongue. The boy can feel himself beginning to drool as the intrusion of grains from dirt and salt -likely from tears- invades his senses via his taste buds. The mixture isn’t good, but it is paired with a smell that is distinctly  _ Brandon _ and Dallas can’t help but shudder at the proximity. 

Fingertips dig into his jaw slightly as Brandon forces Dallas to look at him and the boy feels like he might lose his mind if Brandon keeps teasing him like this. Without thinking, Dallas wraps his fingers around Brandon’s wrist, not holding the boy in place nor pushing him away but simply fulfilling his desire to have more contact. His mind is spinning in a flurry of confusion and desire, neither one far behind the other. Surely this doesn’t fall on the south side of that platonic/romantic line they had been jumping rope with for the past… forever. 

“You’re so pretty.” Brandon whispers beneath his breath, and Dallas smirks around the thumb in his mouth as he watches a tremor run through the boy. He had only seen that tremor run through Brandon once before. 

_ “Why do you know how to tie so many knots?” Dallas laughs through the question as he makes yet another futile attempt to rid himself of the rope tied around his wrists. No matter which way he twists, the bonds only seem to get tighter. It’s frustrating and slightly hilarious as he is rendered completely immobile. Brandon stands above him, fingers loosely playing at the opposite end of the rope. The bedroom light behind Brandon seems to cast shadows across his face, giving him an almost angelic aura. Dallas is suddenly hit with an urge, though to do what, he isn’t sure. He pulls at the restraints harder, suddenly much more forceful with the rope. He feels helpless and despite the fact he doesn’t know how to handle it, he feels safe in the presence of Brandon.  _

_ “Helps to know knots when you fish a lot.” The words roll off of Brandon’s tongue like a lie, and Dallas looks up at the boy with skepticism written all over his features. It wasn’t often that Brandon lied to him, but Dallas could typically tell immediately when he had. Dallas liked to think that it was because he’s a good friend and not because he had memorized Brandon’s speech patterns down to a T.  _

_ “That’s good to know. So why did you learn?” Dallas makes it a point to give the boy a look to show he isn’t going to worm his way out of the answer. “You’re not some sort of serial killer are you? I’d like to know before I dedicate my time to spending the night here.” Dallas laughs to himself at the idea of Brandon being a killer of any kind. He had always been too soft for his own good.  _

_ Brandon mumbled, and Dallas shook his head as he looked up at the boy again, this time signaling for him to say it louder as best he could with the restraints on him. The ropes begin to leave burns on his wrists, and eventually Dallas finds that he has given up on trying to escape. He knows that it is impossible; Brandon is simply too good at tying knots.  _

_ “I said,” Brandon started, his cheeks going pink as Dallas holds steady eye contact. “I learned in case I needed to make things more interestin’ while having sex.” It isn’t until Brandon mumbles the words that Dallas realizes why he had been so shy about tying him up in the first place. For Dallas, it had been a game, but for Brandon, it had been a sign of his best friend submitting to him.  _

_ Dallas nods and looks back down at his wrists, eyes trailing the coils of rope which were so expertly tied. He honestly had no clue how Brandon learned to tie these knots so expertly, especially without Dallas ever even knowing he had an interest. Surely this had to have been the result of hours worth of practice, right? _

_ “I never got to actually use it on someone.” The words seem like a direct reply to his thoughts. Brandon’s voice is quiet now, almost in awe as he watches Dallas struggle. He hadn’t even realized that he was still moving, fighting the restraints on him. He didn’t really desire an escape, but rather to test the boundaries.  _

_ “You can try more knots on me… practice.” Dallas is speaking barely above a whisper, and he knows the implications of what he is saying, but he can’t seem to stop himself. He wants to see more of this side of Brandon, the side he never gets to witness. They don’t talk about sex hardly at all, so to see even a glimpse of Brandon’s innermost desires has Dallas practically frothing at the mouth.  _

_ “Oh really? You’d let me use you as a dummy?” Brandon’s voice is teasing but there is suddenly an underlying tone of desire. He wants this just as badly as Dallas does, and Dallas wants to see the boy come unhinged. The boy watches as Brandon shifts his weight and decides he has to swallow his pride in order to get what he wants out of it all.  _

_ “Please. Show me.” Dallas whispers. The effect is instantaneous and Dallas watches as a tremor runs through Brandon’s body rapidly, starting at his shoulders and ending with his eyes rolling back. It’s subtle, but Dallas sees it, and he understands. Brandon feels powerful like this, and Dallas wants that power unleashed on him.  _

Dallas blinks harshly as Brandon’s thumb falls away from his mouth and the boy takes a quick step back as if he suddenly realized what had been happening. Dallas swallows a whimper and allows his eyes to fall on Brandon’s shoes… well, boots would be a more appropriate term. Dallas had always liked this specific pair, and had imagined one too many scenarios involving the boy while wearing them. 

Brandon sits down next to Dallas and reaches across him to grab another beer out of their shared ice chest. The boys grumble quietly into the darkness, exchanging words of complaints and small talk. They pretend as if the air isn’t heavy, as if they aren’t both delving in the depths of their imagination to quench the thirst of their undying lust. It’s difficult to pretend such things, but they drink as if they may find the answers at the bottom of their bottle. They don’t, of course, but the liquid poison makes it easier to pretend they had. 

~

Dallas can’t sleep, and it is obvious by the way that Brandon is shuffling around behind him that sleep has evaded the boy as well. The night is quiet, save for the occasional buzz of cicadas and crickets outside of the tent. It’s chilly, though the body heat radiating off of Brandon has Dallas flushed. He doesn’t know when it happened, but the boys ended up snuggled against one another, Dallas’ back flush against Brandon’s chest. This could always be explained away as the boy behind him falling asleep, but Dallas knows for a fact that his best friend of eight years snores like a freight train. Dallas didn’t allow himself to think of the possibility that Brandon assumed him asleep. 

Almost as if aware of Brandon’s thoughts, the boy shifts yet again so one arm is beneath his pillow and the other is at his side. Dallas allows his eyes to flutter shut as warm puffs of breath hit the back of his neck. It’s so little, and yet so overwhelming at the same time. He is sure that Brandon must be aware of his actions. 

After a few moments of stillness, Dallas thinks that he might have gone to sleep- until Brandon’s fingertips brush against the back of his arm. At first, the touches are so light that Dallas believes he may have imagined them, but as the boys lie there listening to crickets, Brandon’s unmistakably warm hands begin tracing patterns into Dallas’ skin. He can hardly breathe, but maybe if he allows the boy to think he isn’t aware of the movements, they won’t stop. 

Everything is too overwhelming, but Dallas can’t bring himself to make the boy stop. In fact, he finds himself shuffling back to press his back flat against Brandon’s chest, a soft hum working its way up from his chest. This is enough for now, though he wants so much more. Brandon’s movements halt for a moment, hand trembling before they begin again, somewhat slower than before. Dallas allows himself to melt into the touch and finally allows himself to drift off to sleep, the boy resting behind him fading away, sure to join him once more in his dreams.

~

Dallas is lost in his own head, and he doesn’t know how to deal with any of what’s happening. He is in the hunting stand yet again, honestly getting tired of his heart racing at the close proximity every time Brandon shifts his weight or throws his jack rye back in the ice chest. Dallas would never understand why Brandon brought his nice whiskey out hunting just so it will get warm and be wasted on a half-assed buzz, but he doesn’t bring it up. It’s just one of those Brandon things; One of those Brandon things that make Dallas unexplainably happy for no reason other than it being distinctly  _ him _ .

He doesn’t have an excuse for their actions anymore. They woke up this morning in a tangle of limbs, Brandon’s face buried in Dallas’ neck, and their arms wrapped around each other as if they can somehow get closer. Brandon has been more touchy than normal, much to the dismay of Dallas’ ribcage, considering every time they get too close, his heart tries to beat out of place. Soft brushes of knuckles, eye contact being held too long, a rather increased amount of hugs that linger. Dallas doesn’t know how to handle any of it, but allows it to continue in hopes that it might lead somewhere. He has quickly become addicted to the feeling of adrenaline rushing through his veins every time Brandon touches him. Surely this boy must feel the fire too, doesn’t he? It’s difficult to believe that this fire is merely his own burden to bear. 

He won’t deny that he kind of hopes to wake up to Brandon touching him again tonight. 

~

Dallas wakes up to the sounds of shuffling and the back of his thighs slick with sweat. The movements are erratic and out of sync with the ragged breathing which seems louder than anything else. Dallas is groggy, but as more senses come into play, the more he realizes that he absolutely should not be awake for this. 

Brandon is rutting up against him, growling profanities beneath his breath as the movements build a pace and quickly fall out of it. His hips ache as he realizes that the pads of Brandon’s fingertips are leaving imprints against his skin. Dallas keeps his eyes closed as he tries to focus all of his thought into what he is feeling. There’s so much and yet not enough to actually understand. 

“Fuck yeah..” Brandon’s voice is nothing more than a growl and suddenly Dallas’ mind is hyperfocused on everything. He can feel the slow drag of Brandon forcing his cock between Dallas’ thighs, and the leg thrown over his knees to hold his thighs together. He can feel the soft puffs of breath hitting the back of his neck with every thrust and he can feel Brandon’s cock pulsing, lubing up his thighs with precum as the boy gets closer to a sinful release. 

It takes everything within Dallas not to moan out loud. This is all he has ever dreamed about… well, to a certain extent. He is being used like a fleshlight and Brandon doesn’t even know he is awake. The slick sounds of his body being used for pleasure has his eyes rolling in the back of his head and he is sure he will be getting off to the thought of this moment for years. Only question is if Brandon actually wants him in this way or if he just really needs to get his wood wet. 

Dallas clenches his teeth and experimentally closes his thighs tighter, listening to see how the boy would react. He is almost immediately met with a low groan and a string of praise despite the fact that in Brandon’s mind, he is still asleep. The movements slow for a moment, and Brandon speaks properly for the first time. “You’re so good Dal… fuck I really shouldn’t be doin’ this.” His words conflict one another and Dallas can hear genuine remorse in his voice. Brandon was never one to drink as much as Dallas, so this could all be chalked up to the buzz they both had, but what was that saying again? A drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts. Dallas hoped that applied with actions as well. 

Dallas finds himself thankful for the fact that he always wears nothing but boxers to bed, considering he can now feel every vein and pulse of Brandon’s cock as the boy’s thrusts get sloppier. The sound of skin against skin grows louder and Dallas can practically feel the desperation radiating off of the boy. Brandon buries his face between Dallas’ shoulder blades and takes deep breaths, body heaving with exertion.

Dallas can’t force himself to stay silent anymore. This is his best friend, his partner in crime, the person who he has loved for an eternity. He doesn’t care if this is only temporary, he knows that he has to live for right now or everything will fall apart. A quiet moan of appreciation falls from his lips and he reaches down to cover Brandon’s hand with his own. 

The response is immediate. He can feel the boy jump out of fear, but he can also feel the need in how his hips can’t stop twitching to use Dallas’ thighs as his own personal toy for pleasure. He moves with wild abandon and moans openly into the expanse of Dallas’ skin. He had never seen the boy so gone before and to feel his nails clawing at his hips is a new sensation he is sure that he will never get enough of.

“I’m so close, Dal-” Brandon’s words are cut off with a gasp as Dallas spreads his thighs so there is no longer anything to properly fuck. The boy hisses behind him and he can still feel Brandon’s hips move in a constant rhythm, trying uselessly to find that same friction to aid his release once more. Dallas chuckles to himself as a soft whine is torn from Brandon, his annoyance with the shift made obvious. It isn’t until Brandon speaks that Dallas finds himself shuddering. “Be a good boy for me and let me use your pretty thighs.” He doesn’t know when the boy moved, or when Brandon’s voice developed such a husk, but it has Dallas reeling. 

“I wanna see you cum.” Dallas replies, closing his eyes to saturate in the way Brandon’s fingertips flex against his hips. Brandon chuckles as his lips press against the back of Dallas’ neck. The boy shudders, nerves coming alive as chapped lips serve to make the boy drool. He can feel the rapid breaths of his best friend coming down from the high he never quite reached and Dallas is quite frankly astounded by the amount of self control that Brandon suddenly seems to possess. He is sure that were the positions swapped, Dallas would be a writhing mess by now, and yet Brandon is slowly pressing kisses to his skin as if they have all of the time in the world. In a way, they do. Neither of them are expected to be home for another couple of days, and Dallas is sure the both of them are wide awake at this point.

Brandon’s fingers are light as he taps on Dallas’ hips. “Roll over.” his accent is heavy and his tone rather commanding. For some reason, this Brandon is overwhelmingly different from his own soft friend that he had known for years. The change gives him whiplash and he doesn’t even have time to think before the boy is straddling him, obviously impatient with Dallas’ incompetence. The sudden shift of weight to his lap has Dallas’ eyes rolling back, that same fire from earlier today moving to burn away at the contents of his stomach. This arousal is mixed with something akin to anxiety but the adrenaline of seeing Brandon like this makes it all somehow bearable.

The man is laughing, and Dallas thinks he may have missed a joke. He doesn’t have the time to ask before Brandon is holding his wrists above his head, and pressing their lips together in a much harsher manor than he had before. Their kisses are frantic and the movements are driven with lust rather than passion, but Dallas finds that he enjoys it almost just as much. A thought lingers in the back of his mind that this may be all that they will ever do, but Brandon drives a thigh between the both of his and the stars in his vision push away his depression train of thought. 

Dallas isn’t sure what he had imagined it all to be like, considering his brain can no longer process coherent thought, but he doesn’t remember any fantasy ever including Brandon hovering above him like this, eyes lit up as if he is playing a new game which he enjoys far too much. The desire controls him, and Dallas is sure that with a few simple words, Brandon would be ravishing him. He wonders if there is anything more for them than just this single weekend. He wonders if Brandon is aware of the impending doom of their friendship. He can’t allow himself to enjoy this when the idea of it never happening again plagues his thoughts. Surely Brandon must know that high school couples don’t make it. He must know that sex isn’t a binding link that will keep them together forever. It is merely a link which will cause more pain once everything is let go. Their skin feels electric against one another and Dallas is sure that no matter how hard he tries, how much he loves someone, there will never be another person to make him feel quite like this. 

“You’re thinking too loud.” Brandon utters the phrase used too commonly between the two, and Dallas finds himself back in the moment. His thighs are spread, and Brandon’s hands are drawing patterns against his skin. “You alright?” Brandon’s voice has lost some of the husk, almost as if he is aware of Dallas’ mind racing with dreadful thoughts. The shift in tone brings forward a blush and Dallas is sure the boy must be aware of how badly he doesn’t want this to end here. 

“Is this gonna be a one time thing?” He knows that the question is horrible, and he can feel the mood fizzling away into something much darker as the two of them sit in silence. Brandon is biting the inside of his cheek, an odd habit that he only ever does when he wants to say something but can’t seem to find the words. 

“I don’t want it to be.” Dallas finds the familiar tone comforting. The boy is blunt, as always, and that’s one of those things Dallas loves about him. There’s never room for confusion when being asked, though Dallas doesn’t make much of an attempt at asking. Maybe his mind wouldn’t be spinning if he asked more often. 

“Me neither.” Dallas asks, and that’s all it takes before Brandon is pressing chaste kisses to his neck once more. He hadn’t even realized the boy let go of his wrists, but finds himself holding them above his head nonetheless in an attempt to please. Dallas never thought of himself as one who would be desperate to please in such a submissive way, but as his back arches into Brandon’s feather-light touch, he thinks that this might be much more interesting than whatever the hell else he had imagined. 

“Do you wanna keep going?” the rasp has returned to Brandon’s voice and Dallas’ eyes flutter shut as he saturates in the sound. He nods silently as the boy teases his thumb at the waistband of his boxers. “I need to hear you say it, Dallas.” Brandon rarely ever uses his full name, and now, in this context it sounds powerful. He is being picked apart slowly, his brain being turned to mush with every word dripping from Brandon’s lips. The warmth in his stomach rushes forward once more, far more intense than the first time. It is no longer a desire, but a need.

“Yes… Yes, please, I want this.” He bites his tongue as the affirmation slips into begging and his face flushes a bright red when Brandon laughs at him. The laugh is far from sinister, and he can see the teasing light in the man’s eyes, but he still can’t help the quiet whine that slips out. “Shut the fuck up.” He can’t look Brandon in the eyes as he realizes how pathetic he sounds. The words themselves are harmless, but he knows how Brandon will take his whimpering. It’s a sign of submission, and Dallas can’t take it back. He wants this, wants it more than anything but fuck if it’s not hard to fight the urge to try and seem more dominant than he feels at the moment. 

“Awe, how cute.” Brandon’s words hold a teasing light, and Dallas believes that he may be off the hook for a second before Brandon is gripping onto the both of his wrists tightly once more, pressing his hands into the ground. The other hand easily manages to find the elastic band of Dallas’ boxers, and in a heavy moment of desire, the boy becomes exposed. He becomes highly aware of the fact that in that moment, the both of them are exposed. He finds himself curious, despite the lust which overwhelms his sense. 

Dallas’ eyes trace the expanse of Brandon’s body, lingering on every exposed part of him for only a second before moving on. He had seen all of him before, but there is something vastly different about seeing his best friend’s cock leaking precum against his stomach. Dallas shudders as he watches Brandon’s arousal pulse, a pearly drop of precum oozing from his tip. Everything about it feels almost too real, and he can’t help but be startled as he realizes he is drooling. His eyes snap back up to meet Brandon’s, and oddly enough, the boy is watching him closely. The face of insecurity didn’t match his cocky tone he had held only a moment ago. The boy is waiting for an assessment, a rejection, and Dallas is surely the wrong boy for that. 

The air feels much too thick as Dallas tries to think of some way to express his desire in that moment. He can only think about the way Brandon’s cock is literally leaking for him. He finds himself wanting to taste it, to experience the feeling of having his lips wrapped around Brandon’s need. Without hesitation, Dallas allows his tongue to loll out, and is yet again surprised by the amount of saliva which had gathered in his mouth. He can feel his own desire throbbing between his legs, but it seems unimportant compared to the thought of Brandon using his mouth to achieve something more. 

“Jesus fuckin’ christ, Dallas.” Brandon seems astounded, and Dallas finds himself proud of taking the boy of guard. He allows his eyes to flutter shut and keeps his lips from pulling up into a grin when he feels Brandon’s hips drag slowly against his hip. He likes the idea that his own simple gesture has the boy coming apart at the seams. For a moment, there is silence, but then, Brandon is adjusting himself, letting go of Dallas’ hands to crawl up his body. A tremble of something between excitement and anxiety shoots through Dallas, and he opens his eyes just in time for Brandon to cup his jaw. The boy is leaning back against his chest, and looking down at him as if trying to decide whether or not to go through with it. Dallas tries his best to portray through his eyes that he wants nothing more than this. 

Whatever hesitation Brandon was looking for, he never seemed to find. The boy leans forward and rests his weight on one arm, head falling forward to keep from pressing against the walls of the tent. There really wasn’t enough room for the boys to be participating in such activities, but neither can be bothered to care as Dallas wraps his lips around Brandon, and the boy lets out a shuddering moan. Dallas sighs and his eyes roll back as the pearly substance leaking from Brandon’s need smears across his tongue, littering his taste buds with a new sensation never experienced before. The salty desire quickly becomes addicting as Brandon’s hips slowly begin to rock back and forth, introducing him to a new experience every time. His gag reflex has him teary-eyed but he can’t bring himself to tell Brandon to stop or even slow down as he hears the plethora of rather high pitched moans fall from his lips. Dallas begins trying to think about his own sensitivity, and curls his tongue to press against the underside of Brandon’s cock. The boy keens and his body shudders as he falls from his hands to his elbows. Dallas works to take deep breaths as Brandon continues to use him, but they become more difficult the faster Brandon thrusts. 

Suddenly, the boy stops himself, though by the way his hips twitch, Dallas can tell it is not without difficulty. Immediately, his lungs attempt to gather the air he had been lacking, but a whimper still falls from his lips as his mouth misses the sensation. He licks his lips in an attempt to gather any substance from them, finding that he had been drooling all over himself the entire time. 

“Gosh, Dally, are you sure you’ve never done that before?” Brandon’s voice has gotten impossibly lower and Dallas thinks about how his own voice must sound considering his cock is aching too. He chuckles and looks away before nodding, knowing that the disbelief must mean he did satisfactory. “Well,” Brandon starts, heaving deep breaths as he adjusts himself and begins rolling their hips together slowly. “You could’ve fooled me.” 

Dallas doesn’t bother responding as Brandon wraps his hand around the both of them and begins rutting against him, the saliva from Dallas’ mouth working as a lube so their movements barely hold any friction. Dallas finds himself rocking his hips as well, knowing neither of them will last long with the amount of sexual tension holding the both of them at the edge. He reaches his own hand down between their bodies, wrapping his own hand around Brandon’s in an attempt to provide pleasure as well. His desire to aid in it all has both boys ruined and their bodies tremble against one another. 

“I’m gettin’ close darling, you did so good I just can’t help it.” The nickname seems to fall from his lips naturally and Dallas finds the heat spreading to his chest as well. Praise isn’t often given with Brandon, and he knows that the words truly mean something when they are spoken. Dallas arches into their movements, feeling a far too familiar building in his body that he can’t seem to escape. He wants more, but he wants to take this slow. Some part of his brain reminds him that they had been taking it slow for practically their whole lives, but he doesn’t let the thought process continue as Brandon’s soft breaths begin to fall rapidly, soft moans becoming louder as his body falls into a pattern of rocking his hips against Dallas’, hand tightening and body shaking. Dallas’ eyes fall on Brandon’s body, watching the way his muscles flex with every dire movement. Their bodies collide again and again, taking up so much focus that Dallas didn’t even notice when Brandon’s fingers tangled in the underside of his hair. The slight tug is sudden, as is Dallas’ reaction. The tingling sensation blooms across his scalp, sending sparks of pleasure down his spine as Brandon growls quietly. A high pitched whimper falls from his lips and he suddenly finds himself unbearably close with the mixed sensations. He had never been treated in such a way, and typically most people didn’t touch his hair, but something about the way Brandon is using his body makes everything suddenly overwhelming. 

“Bran-Brandon, fuck yeah, god yeah baby-” Dallas rambles as heat breaks him into a desperate sweat. Waves of pleasure build up around him, coaxing him to a climax as Brandon’s voice fades away into senseless praise. Dallas doesn’t even have time to announce his own finishing as his gasp is cut off and replaced with a broken moan. Brandon’s head falls forward onto his shoulder and he can feel the boy drooling as his stomach tightens and their movements become more slick with the boys’ mixed cum. Dallas’ hand stops moving, though Brandon continues to tug them off, dragging them past the point of an orgasm just to the edge of overstimulation. Dallas twitches and whimpers, body unable to do anything more than lie there and deal with the sensation. It’s only when Dallas begins to blubber his desperate need to stop that Brandon pulls away, a wicked smile painting his features. 

“You did so well.” Is all he says before moving down Dallas’ body. The boy can hardly keep his eyes open as he hears shuffling around in the tent. There is silence for a moment, save for the noises constantly buzzing outside. It’s rather calm, despite the activities beforehand being anything but. He finds that he doesn’t mind it, not when the air which has constantly been filled with sexual tension seems calm. 

Dallas actually begins to drift off before he feels Brandon’s tongue lapping at the cum left to dry on his cock. His eyes shoot open, and hands quickly move to find Brandon’s hair as the sensation sends his body into a flurry of panic, making him twitch and whimper. The man’s hands come down on either side of his hips, holding him still to the ground as his tongue traces the veins of Dallas’ rapidly softening cock. Dallas’ eyes roll back and his back arches up off of the ground as the action sends his body into overdrive. It only lasts for a few seconds, but to him it seems like hours before Brandon is satisfied and pulls away with a rather soft smile for what he had just been doing. 

“The hell was that?” Dallas asks, a mixture of flustered and embarrassed at the way his body had reacted to simple overstim. Brandon chuckles, his eyes roaming Dallas’ body as if attempting to commit it all to memory. 

“Was just cleaning you up. I doubt you wanna go to the creek right now, and even if you do… I don’t want to.” Brandon responds with a smirk, obviously aware of what he was doing. Dallas can barely muster a glare at him as his body tries desperately to make him slip into unconsciousness. Their banter is the same, and yet everything feels different. He doesn’t have the time or energy to think it all out. That worry is for another day.

~

Dallas treads the water slowly, his hands shaking slightly with anxiety. He knows he has no reason to be nervous, and yet he is. Brandon’s skin looks somewhat pale in the moonlight, and Dalas can’t help but rake his eyes over the bruises that he himself left mere hours before. They had fucked multiple times now, and yet he was somehow afraid of this? He bites his lip as he mulls over the possibilities. He knows Brandon isn’t the type to want friends with benefits type relationships, but this silence is making Dallas rethink everything he has ever known about the boy. He is afraid of his best friend, a sentence he never thought he would utter. 

Dallas takes a deep breath, and slowly steps forward until he is standing behind the smaller boy. Water droplets make an abundant amount of noise as they fall from his hands back to the water below. His fingertips are feather-light as he traces the length of Brandon’s arms. A soft sigh of relief passes his lips as Brandon relaxes back against his chest easily. Dallas rests his head on the man’s shoulder, and allows himself to admire the moon just as Brandon had been doing. His skin is warm, and Dallas is sure he can feel their heartbeats begin to thump at the same pace as his arms slip around Brandon’s torso, a single hand resting above his heart. Their bodies line up perfectly, and yet despite neither of them are clothed, it feels normal. Maybe neither of them know what the future holds, and maybe they don’t care. Right now, Dallas has the love of his life in his arms, his best friend he has known for years. It’s impossible to describe the feeling of warmth which flows through him as they fall into a comfortable silence together. He is sure now, they will wake up tomorrow, and things will be different. They will share kisses and hold hands on the drive home. They will eventually come out to their family, and no matter what they will have each other because they always have. Dallas is sure of this. 

“Stop thinking so loud, sweetheart, I’m trying to enjoy the moon.” Brandon’s voice is soft as he teases Dallas, and the nickname makes Dallas’ throat feel thick with emotion. 

“Sorry, Brando.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading and thank you for taking the time to do so! If you ever wanna talk more hc stuff or just hang out, feel free to reach out to me on twitter @Simping_Soup! Have a great day :D


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